


Hold Onto The Handrail (or: The Tragic Demise of a Very Expensive Shirt and a Cup of Coffee and the Resulting Awkwardness)

by AntarcticBird



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 20:08:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1400842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntarcticBird/pseuds/AntarcticBird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b><a href="hazelandglasz.tumblr.com">hazelandglasz</a> prompted:</b> the subway brakes too strongly and bam, au meeting ?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Onto The Handrail (or: The Tragic Demise of a Very Expensive Shirt and a Cup of Coffee and the Resulting Awkwardness)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hazelandglasz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/gifts).



It's been a long, weird, difficult day and Kurt is exhausted and hungry and feeling annoyed. He'll have to stop to get take-out on the way home, and his roommates are fighting with each other once again and money is tight so he'll have to pick up an extra shift at the diner this weekend. And all he really wants right now is a shower. A nice, hot, long shower. He's sure that that's the only thing that will make this whole day infinitely better.

 

For now, he soothes himself stealing sneaky glances at the cute guy standing next to him, sipping coffee even this late in the afternoon. He's adorable and Kurt's had a crappy day, so if he wants to appreciate the sight of a gorgeous guy with the cutest head of carefully styled curly hair, he thinks no one can blame him. Besides. It isn't often he sees people who can actually rock mustard yellow pants and bow ties with what looks like little sailboats on it.

 

The train approaches his stop and he shuffles closer to the doors, impatient to get out of here, when the train brakes harder than usual – he takes a little hopping step to the side, reaching out his hands to brace himself against the pole. Cute Guy next to him is less fortunate – Kurt knows what's going to happen before it does; sees the guy with his paper cup full of coffee stumble toward him gracelessly, feet tripping over each other as his free hand flails helplessly. Kurt isn't fast enough stepping out of the way and the guy bumps into him hard, coffee spilling down the front of Kurt's shirt and soaking through his undershirt, and all he can think is, _shit_. And then, _well,_ _at least it wasn't hot anymore_.

 

The stranger straightens himself up, eyes wide and shocked. “Oh my god, oh no, I am _so_ sorry, I – oh my god, sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to -”

 

Kurt clenches his teeth, takes a calming breath as he tries to ignore the way his shirt is clinging wetly to his chest. “It's fine,” he says shortly. Yelling at a stranger who seems genuinely sorry is not going to make anyone's day any better, but he can't quite bring himself to be polite either. “Ugh, that's disgusting.” He pulls the wet fabric off his skin a little, and yes, he definitely needs a shower now.

 

“Really, I am so, so sorry, please believe me, I really -”

 

“Whatever, okay?” Kurt snaps, and then the train stops, doors opening, and he winds his way around the stranger, gets off as quickly as he can, definitely in a hurry to get home now.

 

What he doesn't expect is for the man to follow him off the train, still babbling apologies, hands waving, eyes still almost comically wide, and seriously, what's wrong with this guy? Kurt has been bumped into a thousand times on the subway, had his toes stepped on painfully, got people's bags and umbrellas in the ribs, had people sneezing on the back of his neck, hell, he's even been groped a number of times, however 'accidental.' A muttered _sorry_ is the most he's ever gotten in return. This is the big city; people elbow you in the gut and grab your ass and walk off, seriously, where is this guy even _from_?

 

“...I mean, I know how expensive that shirt is, I recognize McQueen when I see it, I'll pay to have it cleaned, if you just let me know -”

 

Kurt looks at him with a raised eyebrow. “Are you serious right now?”

 

The guy stops mid-sentence, looking confused. “I – uh. About having your shirt cleaned?”

 

Kurt sighs. “Look, please stop following me, I just want to go home and get changed, okay?”

 

“No, no, of course, I am so sorry,” the guy says. “Oh my god your shirt is actually dripping, of course you want to go home, do you have far to go? I mean, not that that's any of my business, we don't even know each other, just, here, just -” He digs through his bag, holds out a tissue to Kurt, and when he doesn't react, takes a step closer. “Okay, just let me -” He begins to ineffectually dab at Kurt's chest, brow furrowed with worry. “And it's _cold_ today, I hope you don't get sick because of me -”

 

Kurt catches the guy's wrist, holding it away from his chest determinedly. “Would you kindly stop doing that?” he asks, getting impatient now, even though he can tell it's a sincere attempt at being helpful. He takes off his equally expensive jacket to protect it from getting soaked through as well, shakes it out a little before draping it over his arm, holding it as far from the coffee stain as possible. “It's fine,” he promises again, just wanting to get away. “Don't feel bad, it could have happened to anyone. I'm gonna go now, okay?”

 

“Are you sure there's nothing I can do?” the guy asks, looking up at him with sad eyes, and dammit, he's cute, Kurt still notices that even with the silent anger at a seriously ridiculously crappy day still sizzling under his skin.

 

“I'll survive,” Kurt says, forcing a smile. “Thank you for apologizing. Not a lot of people in this city would have.”

 

“Oh.” He blushes, and even that's adorable, and Kurt could totally see himself trying to get this guy's number if he weren't wet and annoyed and uncomfortable and starting to feel cold. “Well. I'm – new here.” Cute Guy lowers his head, laughs a little embarrassed laugh. “And I'm really off to a great start, apparently.”

 

“Hey.” Kurt shrugs. “You didn't do it on purpose. And I'm very sorry about your coffee, seems like you didn't get to drink a lot of it. That really sucks.”

 

“Oh no, please don't apologize,” the man is quick to say. “You have nothing to be sorry about!”

 

“Well, neither have you, then,” Kurt assures him. Because, really. Most people wouldn't even have stopped to acknowledge the accident.

 

“I'm Blaine,” the guy blurts out, and Kurt smiles at him.

 

“Hello, Blaine. I'd say it's nice to meet you, but – well.” He gestures at his shirt, smiling to make sure it's a joke, delighted when Blaine blushes even darker. “You're a nice guy, Blaine,” he says. “Don't lose that. And now I'm afraid I really do have to go. I still have to buy dinner and I'm a bit impatient to get out of these clothes.”

 

Blaine nods, smiles back, thankfully doesn't ask for his name as Kurt turns and walks away.

 

**

 

It's not until he's walked several blocks and digs through his pockets to check if he has enough money for his favorite burritos that he realizes his wallet is no longer there. He sighs, mood dropping again. It must have fallen out of his jacket when he took it off on the subway platform. For a second, he considers going back to try and find it, but this is New York. Someone else will have already found it. He'll never see it again.

 

Feeling seriously pissed off with the world now, he walks the rest of the way home, resigning himself to the fact that he will not get any dinner tonight and making a list in his head of all the things he needs to take care of – his ID was in there, his debit card was in there … and he just wanted food and a quiet night in.

 

**

 

He's showered and in clean clothes, still hungry, but there's nothing he can do about that. He's just digging through the fridge for _something_ he can eat – maybe there's some cheese left over or whatever – when there's a knock on the door.

 

Sighing, he walks over to the front door, assuming it's Santana who has forgotten her keys again.

 

“Seriously, you have to stop doing that -” he starts, pulling the door open, then stops, stares. It's not Santana.

 

Blaine looks up at him confused. “Stop doing what?”

 

Kurt shakes his head. “I thought you were my roommate.”

 

“Oh. No. I'm not.”

 

“Wait, how do you know where I live?” Kurt asks, frowning. “Are you stalking me?” He doesn't really believe Blaine is the type for that – there's nothing remotely creepy about him. But then, you never know. It would fit the pattern of his day so far to have acquired a stalker on top of everything else.

 

Blaine's face falls, then goes serious. “I'm sorry for just showing up here,” he says. “It's just – you dropped this.” He lifts a hand, holding up Kurt's wallet. “Your address was in there.”

 

Kurt lets out a relieved sigh, taking the wallet from Blaine's outstretched hand. “Oh my god. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I didn't notice it was gone until I was almost home, so that was quite a shock. Thank you so much for picking it up, and bringing it back – seriously, thank you!”

 

Blaine bites his lip, trying to hide the pleased grin on his face. “Anyone would have done that.”

 

Kurt fixes him with a firm look. “No. Actually. Most people wouldn't have.”

 

“I know,” Blaine replies. “But I figured I had caused you enough trouble for one day.”

 

“You really have to stop apologizing about that,” Kurt falls in.

 

“Besides, it was the right thing to do, so -”

 

“You're all about doing the right thing, aren't you?” Kurt asks.

 

Blaine shrugs. “I don't know, I just -”

 

“Thank you,” Kurt repeats. “Now I can go out and buy dinner after all and don't have to resort to eating that green stuff I found in the fridge, I'm not even sure that even actually _is_ guacamole -”

 

“Actually -” Blaine blushes again, holding up a bag Kurt hadn't noticed before. “I picked up burritos on the way.”

 

“That's – nice?” Kurt furrows his brow, confused.

 

“For you,” Blaine adds, holding the bag out to Kurt. “You mentioned you hadn't eaten yet and after I found your wallet – I just assumed you were probably still hungry.”

 

“Starving,” Kurt breathes, the smile just spreading across his face before he has a chance to stop it. God this guy is _adorable_. “How did you know I wanted burritos tonight?”

 

Blaine shakes his head, smiling back at him. “You did? Well, then, lucky guess on my part. They're my favorite and I just – hoped you liked them too.”

 

“I love them” Kurt assures him, bites his lip before making a quick decision. “Did you bring enough for two?”

 

Blaine seems to think about it. “I didn't know you had a roommate, I'm sorry. But I bought you a salad and a slice of cake too, so I guess you could share it ...”

 

Kurt has to suppress a moan at the mention of cake – Blaine really is a nice guy, apparently. He's starting to feel almost glad about the demise of his beautiful shirt, if it means he has a cute guy bringing him food late on a Friday night. “I have two roommates, actually.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Who are both working tonight.”

 

Blaine just looks – puzzled. “Oh,” he says, again.

 

Kurt rolls his eyes at him, laughing with an inexplicable rush of fondness for this guy who he's known all of ten minutes and who ruined one of his favorite shirts. “I'm asking you if you want to come in and have dinner with me, you doofus.”

 

“Oh.” Blaine's eyes widen, and he laughs too, looking a little flustered. “Are you sure?” He lowers his eyes, blinking up at him from under impossibly long lashes, and oh yes, Kurt is sure.

 

“Do you want to?” he asks back.

 

Blaine grins. “Yes.”

 

“Then come in.” Kurt steps back so Blaine can walk past him, and he knows this is kind of completely insane. “I mean, we already had a rather unconventional coffee date, isn't dinner kind of what comes next?”

 

“Oh my god.” Blaine chuckles. “Well, you have a point there.”

 

Kurt grins. Blaine really is unbelievably adorable, and even if the way they met had been a complete disaster, he has a feeling they could get along really well if they got to know each other a little better.

 


End file.
